


Don't Call Me Daphne

by seleneheart



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Botany, Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Mythology References, Transformation, Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22116511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seleneheart/pseuds/seleneheart
Summary: Major Evan Lorne thought that the story started, as many stories do, with a stiff dick.  By the time Lorne had the notion to look for the true start of the story, it was far too late.
Relationships: Evan Lorne/Parrish
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	Don't Call Me Daphne

Major Evan Lorne thought that the story started, as many stories do, with a stiff dick. By the time Lorne had the notion to look for the true start of the story, it was far too late.

**

The morning started out with Lorne waking up to find Parrish’s hand gently cupping and squeezing Evan’s erection. Lorne’s mother always told him ‘do unto others’ so he rolled over and returned the favor. He was due in a staff meeting at 0600, so as soon as they both came, he pulled himself out of bed and stepped in the shower. Parrish’s day started later, so Lorne didn’t expect his partner to join him and in fact, he would have been quite content to leave his room with Dave’s warm presence still there.

When he walked out of the bathroom though, Parrish was sitting up, staring at his crotch with a worried frown.

“It’s not going down,” he said.

“What?”

“My dick. It’s not getting soft.”

Lorne raised an eyebrow. “Did you take some of Woolsey’s Viagra?”

Parrish shot him annoyed look. “Don’t make jokes.”

He couldn’t stop the snicker. “So? Your morning wood is still . . . woody. Most guys would kill for that problem.”

“I can’t believe you went for the plant joke.”

Pulling on his BDUs, Lorne shrugged. Parrish should’ve known better by then. All of the Lanteans coped with things with sarcasm. Well, all of them who knew what sarcasm was. Ronon clearly did, but he wasn’t sure about Teyla.

“See the doc later if it doesn’t go down. Isn’t what they say in the ads?”

Parrish moved his cock around, fingers wrapped around his flesh, exploring. Lorne pushed down a flare of arousal.

“Wish I had time to stay and help you get rid of it.” He leaned over to kiss Parrish goodbye and then walked out the door.

**

Back in their quarters that night, he found that the problem hadn’t gone way and Parrish was still hard.

“Did you see the doc?”

Dave mumbled and turned away.

“So you didn’t.”

“It seems like a ludicrous problem to take to the med staff.”

“You’re embarrassed,” Lorne guessed.

His lover shrugged and slowly stripped. His dick was just as hard as it had been that morning, but Evan grinned.

“I think I can help with that,” he said, not hiding his smirk.

Parrish smiled back. “Okay.”

When he lifted Parrish’s shirt, he discovered that his partner hadn’t even buttoned his pants. The detail was slightly worrisome, but Lorne shrugged it away. He pulled Dave’s trousers and boxers down to his knees, and then knelt in front of the botanist. 

Parrish’s cock stood out from his body, and Lorne would have expected it to be angry and red-looking after his day-long hard on, but the organ was strangely pale. He looked up to Parrish’s worried eyes and gave him a smile.

Lorne pulled briskly on Parrish’s cock. The shaft _was_ hard, harder than he thought it would be. It seemed to have lost its usual feel of velvet over steel. He frowned.

“I can’t feel that,” Parrish whispered. His voice sounded strained. “I can see that you’re touching me, but I can’t feel it.”

Fear spiked through Lorne then and he resolved to get Parrish to medical in the morning, no matter how much he protested.

He stood up. “It’s all right, baby. We’ll see the doc and she’ll fix you up. Let’s just get some sleep.”

They undressed slowly, carefully. Parrish’s face was clouded with distress. Lorne enfolded Dave’s lanky body in his arms, trying to offer what comfort he could.

Later he would have a long meditation on last times, which were so different than first times, and snuck up on you, and you didn't know you were experiencing one until it was all over. And he would wish like hell that fate would offer some sort of indication when life was about to go to shit.

**

In the morning, Parrish was weak and sluggish. He moved as slowly as a man twice his age. The fear Lorne had been suppressing turned to panic. 

He keyed his comm. “Major Lorne to Medical. I need a wheelchair in my quarters.”

While they waited for an escort, Lorne helped Parrish get dressed. The only bright spot he could find was that, despite moving like an arthritic centenarian, Parrish didn’t seem to be in any pain.

In the medical bay, Doctor Keller quickly started diagnostic scans, but what she found didn’t seem to make her very happy. Lorne held Parrish’s hand while they waited.

“Doctor Parrish, I need to know if you’ve sustained any injuries on any recent missions.”

Parrish turned his head to meet Lorne’s eyes while they both mentally went through their recent off-world expeditions. Lorne couldn’t think of anything at all. Life had been nearly peaceful in the Pegasus Galaxy for the past few months.

“Nothing remarkable, certainly,” Parrish finally answered.

“What do you mean?” Doctor Keller pressed.

Parrish shrugged. “I’m a botanist. Most of the planets we visit are barely tamed. My job involves a large amount of trail blazing and tromping through underbrush. Scrapes and scratches are par for the course.”

She cursed under her breath, some unladylike words that Lorne wasn’t expecting. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Clearly I need to change the post-mission medical protocols.”

“What?”

She waved the question away. “It doesn’t matter at the moment. Doctor, I need to do a visual skin examination. Every centimeter of you.”

Parrish blushed which made Lorne want to smirk at him, but he was too worried about Doctor Keller’s body language. She was clearly upset. 

“Go ahead,” Parrish said faintly.

He wasn’t able to move his arms at that point, so rather than summon a corpsman, Lorne helped her move and turn his lover. She finally found what she was looking for at the outer edge of the crease of his left arm. There was a tiny scratch, as though made by a thorny shrub. The edges of the cut were a powdery white and the inside of it was dry, but it clearly wasn’t healing.

“I need to run some more tests,” she informed them.

“Wait,” Lorne said before she could turn away. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“But you have a guess.”

Her fingers moved nervously over her tablet. “Yes.”

“Tell him,” Parrish said. “Tell him . . . everything.”

“I hold his medical power of attorney,” Lorne added. They hadn’t thought it would ever be necessary, but it had seemed a huge step towards a deeper commitment. They had been so happy when Parrish had been sent back to Pegasus.

Keller nodded. “All right. His DNA seems to be undergoing a fundamental change. He seems to have been infected with a retrovirus.”

Lorne frowned. “Like Sheppard?”

“Yes, but . . .”

“But Beckett cured him! Can’t you fix him?”

She shook her head. “This is a different circumstance. His blood is showing traces of chlorophyll.”

Parrish gave a choked laugh. “A plant? I’m turning into a plant?”

“Possibly. I don’t know.”

Lorne stood up. “I need to talk to Sheppard. He was cured with an Iratus bug. He can send a team back to the last planet.”

Sheppard was in his office and Lorne quickly explained the situation.

“I’ll get a team geared up and ready to go in fifteen minutes. In haz mat gear. What are they looking for?”

“Any tree or plant with thorns.” Lorne was grateful that his commanding officer was such an understanding man. “Thank you.”

“I have to tell Woolsey though.”

“He’s hardly contagious.”

“I know. But something on that planet infected a member of this expedition. He’s the leader.”

Lorne sighed. He fiddled with his shirt cuffs while Sheppard spoke with Woolsey, not paying much attention to what they were saying. He needed to get back to the infirmary and Parrish.

Sheppard turned around. “Senior staff meeting in five minutes. Come on.”

“I need to get back.”

The colonel gave him a long steady look. “I thought you might like some input into whatever decision we make.”

Lorne was aghast. “It’s his body, his life!”

“You know it doesn’t work that way around here.”

That set Lorne back. He did know that. This was a combat situation, in a galaxy at war. Individual rights were less important than those of the rest of the expedition. Woolsey might be technically a civilian, but that didn’t change the rules. 

“Yeah,” he said bitterly.

He followed Sheppard into the conference room, sitting beside his commander for security. He was angry with himself for needing it. McKay came in quietly for once and Keller took her seat without speaking. She looked tired and worry clenched in Lorne’s gut.

Woolsey bustled in and took his place at the head of the table. He shuffled papers around and tapped on his tablet a few times before looking up and noticing Lorne.

“What’s he doing here? I said senior staff only.”

Sheppard stretched out lazily, seeming to take up twice as much space as usual. “He’s my XO. He has every right to be here.”

“He has a POA for the patient,” Keller interjected.

“Power of attorney? For what possible reason?” Woolsey’s face became more pinched than normal.

“I don’t think it really matters,” Sheppard answered.

“A member of the military contingent of this base holding a power of attorney for a civilian member smacks of actions which have been specifically condemned by the government of the United States, which further . . .”

“If I recall, you don’t work for the United States,” Sheppard interrupted.

“Beside which, such regulations are primitive and barbaric and . . . Ow!” McKay jumped as though someone had goosed him and glared at Sheppard who smirked. “Besides which, aren’t germane to the present problem,” he finally concluded.

Woolsey looked like he wanted to argue further, but Doctor Keller spoke up.

“I’ve run as many diagnostic exams as I can. Doctor Parrish’s heart rate has become extremely slow, down to 28 beats per minute on average. His blood cells and other body tissues are gradually gaining molecules of chlorophyll. His outer extremities are stiff and he cannot move them on his own.”

“Your conclusions, Doctor,” Woolsey urged.

She fidgeted again. “There’s the obvious one . . . he is turning into some sort of plant.”

“Prognosis?”

“Even if the off-world team identifies the plant that started this, I’m not sure the process can be reversed.”

“Beckett did it,” Sheppard pointed out.

“This situation is not the same!” she flared angrily. “I’ve looked at his notes regarding your transformation. I’ve tried everything I can think of.”

“Do you have a time frame?” McKay asked.

“No, not at the moment. The only positive note in all this is that the change doesn’t seem to be causing him any pain.”

“Any risk to the city?” Woolsey put in.

She shook her head. “No, as long as we take normal blood borne toxin precautions. I can’t see this spreading. Unlike Sheppard, he has no inclinations to violence. He seems almost . . . peaceful.”

“Then, what do we do with him?” Woolsey threw out.

“I don’t think he will die of this,” Keller said. “But I think the infirmary isn’t the best place for a plant. We should decide where to let him finish the transformation if we can’t stop it.”

“I’m sure we can find someplace perfectly acceptable on the mainland,” Woolsey said, gathering his papers and preparing to leave. “Have someone look into it.”

“No!” Lorne was suddenly shaking with anger.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What if we have to take the city off the planet again?” He looked desperately at Sheppard, hoping for more understanding. “Sir, we don’t leave people behind. He’s a member of his expedition, even if he changes.”

“Okay,” Sheppard nodded.

“Surely we can modify the surface of one of the piers,” McKay said. “He needs a really big hole with dirt, right?”

Lorne smiled gratefully at McKay. “Yeah.”

McKay waved his hand, forestalling any of Woolsey’s objections. “I’ll get some of the engineers working on it. And botany can tell us what kind of soil and whatnot would be best.”

He stood up and walked to the door.

“And I’ll come explain it to Atlantis,” Sheppard said, following McKay.

McKay sighed. “Weirdo.”

“Yep.”

Lorne walked Keller back to the infirmary. She was silent, seeming to have lost her habitual babble. Lorne was grateful. The hard knot of grief that had lodged in his throat that morning seemed to be expanding by the minute.

Back at Parrish’s bedside, Lorne sat down, taking Dave’s unresponsive hand in his. Dave slowly turned his head and gave a faint smile. Tears blurred Lorne’s eyes and he wasn’t sure if his lips were actually forming an answering smile, or if his mouth was twisted in a rictus of pain.

“There’s precedent, you know,” Parrish said, his voice slow and faint, as though talking was an effort. “In classical literature . . .”

“Don’t,” Lorne begged. “Don’t be noble about this. We just got this back, and I can’t stand that we’re losing it again so soon.”

“Okay,” Parrish agreed. “I was hardly fleeing you in any case.”

**

When the team Sheppard had sent back to the planet reported back, the colonel came to the medical bay to inform Keller their findings.

“There’s literally thousands of species of plants there that have thorns or otherwise could have scratched the doc. They brought a few back and the geneticists are looking at them, but they haven’t found any that can inject a retrovirus. We can keep looking, but it’s a big place.”

“And we don’t have that kind of time,” Keller finished for him.

Parrish didn’t seem bothered by the news, but for Lorne, it killed the last of his hopes that they would somehow find a way out of the inevitable conclusion to Parrish’s infected DNA. 

Parrish’s heartbeat was down to ten beats per minutes and he took a breath only two or three times an hour. As Lorne kept his long vigil, Dave’s skin gradually took on a greenish-brown hue and his hair seemed to become rougher, no longer soft strands that invited fingers to muss it. He rarely opened his eyes anymore, but when he did, they seemed to be filmed over. His skin had gotten rougher too, feeling hard to human fingers, but Lorne refused to stop touching him.

Near dawn, Parrish turned his head. “I . . . think . . . time.”

Lorne nodded. He transferred Parrish to a gurney, not worrying about setting off any alarms when he disconnected the machines. Parrish’s vitals had been abnormal for so long that Keller had disabled any warnings.

They reached the east pier and the spot that McKay’s team had altered. A wide expanse of dirt covered with leaf litter greeted them. Lorne helped Parrish stand up and carefully guided his shuffling steps to the center of the plot.

“Move . . . back,” Parrish rasped.

Lorne didn’t want to let him go, but he gave him one last fierce hug before he stepped away from his lover. Light was spreading from the star that would soon be rising. Tears blurred his vision as he watched Parrish struggle to raise his arms.

“Goodbye,” he said.

“Love . . . y . . .” 

A beam of light slid over the horizon, gilding the sea and touching Parrish. His face froze in place as bark overwhelmed his body. His hair grew, turning into leaves spreading out across him while his upraised arms forked and separated, over and over again.

By the time the star rose completely, Parrish was a tall and lovely tree, with graceful limbs that swayed in the slightest breeze of the water. Lorne knelt at the juncture of two roots, watering the new tree with the salt of his grief.

When he had exhausted himself, he stood up and placed his hand on the knotted bark. He imagined that Parrish’s heart still beat, slowly moving sap through his new form. Lorne turned away finally, locking his sorrow deep within his soul.

**

Hundreds of years later, children still played beneath the stately tree. They never wondered at the anomaly of a tree growing in the vast city of metal and glass. The grave beneath its spreading branches aroused their curiosity though, and they made up elaborate stories about the reasons for it.

The tree gave no answers, only shade, and gently waving leaves that fluttered with the sea breezes.


End file.
